


New Freedoms

by Wagnetic



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Domestic, Established Relationship, Happy Gay Farmers, Kneeling (adapted for leg injuries), M/M, Non-sexual dom/sub, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagnetic/pseuds/Wagnetic
Summary: Submission as a facet of domestic life





	New Freedoms

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to CorvusColumbiana and HSavinien for being lovely betas and reminding me how tenses work

It is, as yet, an unspoken thing between them. Marcus doesn’t have the words, and even if he had them, he doubts he would be able to say them out loud. As for Esca… Esca is still a mystery in this.

Marcus has learned him well in the time they’ve spent together on their newly built farm. He knows what Esca looks like when he laughs a real laugh, not the bitter chuckle Marcus heard in the time before. He knows what Esca feels like in his arms, when Esca’s content and sleepy or full of joyous energy Marcus never expected to see. Marcus has seen Esca as he talks about the family and friends he’s lost, looking fond, amused, sweet, angry, sorrowful, and once, tearful. That trust was the greatest gift Marcus has ever received, and he does all he can to be worthy of it. What Marcus has not learned is what goes through Esca’s mind when they do this thing, and somehow Marcus feels that it is best not to ask. It is Esca’s to decide; that’s the point.

  

It began with two words. They were grooming the horses in peaceful silence when Esca tensed slightly and said, “I would like you to cook for me tonight.” Esca does the physical work that Marcus can’t and Marcus takes on extra work that doesn’t harm his leg, including the cooking. At first he balked at the idea and snapped at Esca that he wasn’t his wife, but he came to accept that like so many things, there was nothing inherently degrading about preparing meals. The work is essential, like any other aspect of running a farm. Marcus had realized this months before, so for a moment he couldn’t understand why Esca should feel uneasy. Then it came together. Esca had said, “for me.”

Something came over Marcus then: a soft, glowing peace. “Yes,” he answered. _I would do anything for you_ , he thought, and almost startled at the realization that it was true. There was not a thing Marcus could think of that he wouldn’t do for Esca, and gladly.

 

It continued with a command. Marcus was worn down and sore after a harsh winter day, but too restless to be still. It was unreasonable that the short hours of light in winter were so exhausting when he got so little done. It left Marcus with a prickling under his skin that wouldn’t be quieted. Pacing hurt, but he couldn’t stop himself until Esca had given him a long look and said, “I’m not doing all the mending myself. Sit down.”

This was one of the times that Marcus could see Esca as the chieftain he would have been in another life. Esca spoke with the even tones of a man who knew he would be obeyed without question, and Marcus settled dutifully in the seat beside him. _In another life_ , he thought, _I would have been glad to serve you_. Later, he thought, _I still would, if you would have me_.

That night as they lay wrapped up together, he imagined telling Esca—how Marcus would bury his burning face in Esca’s hair, unwilling to meet his gaze, and how Esca would respond. Maybe he would gasp in a delighted breath and press himself tighter against Marcus, or maybe he would only smile. Esca would like to hear it, Marcus thought. But Marcus wouldn’t be able to explain that he would like his service to extend beyond their bed, so he said nothing.

 

Esca only ordered him to kneel once. Marcus shivered despite the warmth of the hearth. _This_ was exactly what he wanted. It lit him up and shook him until he could feel every bit of his heart fill with wonder. It came back with echoes of sharp Caledonian wind threatening to blow him over as his balance shifted, but this time there was safety. There was no prince before him to claim his life on a whim. There was no anger in Esca’s eyes and no sting of words he could not understand, just love and devotion.

Then he went to his knees and his vision flickered with pain as his leg gave way under him.

 

The next time Esca ordered him to sit again, he pulled Marcus’s chair away when he went to settle there. “No,” Esca said. “You belong at my feet.” Marcus shuddered and closed his eyes and did as he was commanded. Esca tangled a hand in Marcus’s hair and pulled his head back until his throat was exposed and vulnerable. It was perfect, perfect, just where Marcus needed to be, just as Esca had said. _My life in your hands_ , Marcus thought giddily, and either he spoke the words out loud or Esca read them on his face. “You are mine,” Esca said, “and I will never let harm come to you.”

Once, Marcus might have argued that he belonged only to himself and to Rome and he didn’t need protecting. Now, he didn’t bother. All through him was a rushing delight made all the keener by the shade of the shame he was rapidly forgetting. Distantly, he thought he heard his voice saying something, but he wasn’t sure what he said. Words of reverence, no doubt, and gratitude. Words that made Esca beam down at him as though Esca felt the same wonder as Marcus did.

 

Maybe they will speak about it someday. Maybe they’ll just keep falling into this thing when they need it and neither of them will ever explain. Marcus acts on instinct in this and he imagines that Esca does the same, though it is equally likely that Esca plans his actions with the care of a military strategist. _His instinct is only matched by his cleverness_ , Marcus thinks. Marcus understands that he’s utterly besotted and lacks reason when it comes to Esca, but he believes these things nonetheless. He adds goodness and honor to his list of Esca’s virtues and has to laugh at himself. These days he often finds that he’s far too happy to be embarrassed, and maybe that’s a kind of freedom in itself. It seems as though there are many ways to be free.


End file.
